


Tanks 'n' Racecars

by JasonVoorhees



Series: You gotta talk about your feelings [4]
Category: The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: ADHD (maybe), Anxiety, Blurr is just having difficult time, Hardhead is a good boyfriend, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:34:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21989605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JasonVoorhees/pseuds/JasonVoorhees
Summary: Chromedome, Hardhead, and Blurr are helping out at the Decepticon base on Chaar. Blurr is very anxious. About everything.
Relationships: Blurr/Hardhead (Transformers), Constructicons & Omega Supreme, Skyfire/Starscream
Series: You gotta talk about your feelings [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1571764
Kudos: 35





	Tanks 'n' Racecars

Blurr was lost. He, Hardhead, and Chromedome had only arrived on Chaar the day before, and now they were in the big Decepticon base where everything was under construction, and things were blocked off and nobody’d given him a map, so he’d been running and running and trying to follow those little directional signs that the Constructicons had put up and they seemed to be helpful but he kept ending up back at the same elevator which might be good if he knew which floor to go to.

But he didn’t. And if he got on the elevator and went to a random floor he’d probably get even more lost and that wouldn’t be any help to anyone, least of all himself, so Blurr turned to run back and check the last sign for the tenth time and bumped into a Terrorcon.

He didn’t know which Terrorcon, they were green and yellow, and Blurr knew two of the Terrorcons were green and yellow because he’d seen them getting into a fight yesterday. Did it matter which one? Probably not. “Thank-goodness-you’re-here!” Blurr cried. “I-was-trying-to-get-to-the-hangar-where-they’re-working-on-building-the-engine-but-I-don’t-know-which-floor-it’s-on-and-I-know-there-are-only-five-levels-and-it’s-not-a-lot-I-know-I-know-and-it-seems-like-I-probably-ought-to-go-to-a-lower-floor-but-I-honestly-don’t-know-if-that’s-right—” The Terrorcon’s optics were glazing over, and Blurr knew that look, he knew it very well, it meant they’d stopped listening to what he was saying and were just waiting for him to stop talking. But he couldn’t just stop in the middle of what he was trying to say, so he barreled on. “—because-I’ve-definitely-never-helped-build-a-spaceship-before-so-I’m-not-positive-about-where-the-engines-go-but-could-you-help-me-out-please-please?”

The Terrorcon just stared at him. “Uh, what?”

Blurr tried again, and he _tried_ to put it in fewer words, he really did, but his question came out roughly the same length as before. In fact, he may have accidentally made it longer as a result of attempting to make it shorter. But he got it all out, and waited hopefully for a response.

The Terrorcon stared at him some more, and Blurr was getting ready to try a third time when they said, “Come with me.”

Thank Primus! Blurr followed the Terrorcon into the elevator, and they pushed the button to the second level. Blurr didn’t attempt to make any conversation with the Decepticon on the way, since they didn’t seem very conversational, and what if they decided he was more trouble than he was worth? The Decepticons and Autobots had a truce, yes, but Decepticons were still Decepticons, and this one might decide they didn’t feel like helping an Autobot anymore if said Autobot was too annoying.

Blurr knew he was annoying. He couldn’t help it, it was just the way he was. Everything came to him so fast that sometimes it was a struggle just to vocalize it. He knew it was hard for some bots to understand him, and he _had_ tried to slow down, many times, but his system just ran so _fast_ and he always ended up babbling again.

The other problem was that when he slowed down, if he really really concentrated and dug in his heels for a bit, his anxiety kicked in because he was talking too slowly for his thoughts, and he was unable to get everything out. And he couldn’t—he couldn’t _skip_ things, that’s what made the anxiety worse. He _needed_ to vocalize it all, he didn’t know why, but if he didn’t than he couldn’t calm down.

They’d arrived at a door, a not-very-large-door with a window, and it wasn’t a hangar. The Terrorcon pushed the door open and Blurr followed him in. Sixshot was sitting at a desk inside. Was this Sixshot’s office? Maybe the Terrorcon didn’t know which hangar Blurr had been talking about, then, and was going to ask Sixshot.

“Hello, Cutthroat,” Sixshot said. His optics flickered between the Terrorcon and Blurr.

“Hi Sixshot,” said Cutthroat. “I found an Autobot running around the base.”

Sixshot paused, then said gently, “You know they’re supposed to be here, right? We’re not fighting them anymore.”

“Yeah! I remember!” Cutthroat said, almost sounding proud of himself. “But I can’t understand anything this one says.”

Oh. Of course. Blurr sighed inwardly, fidgeting with his hands to keep movement going.

“Well, all right, then,” Sixshot said, and looked expectantly at Blurr.

Blurr said, “I’m-looking-for-the-hangar-where-the-engine-is-being-built-because-we’re-supposed-to-be-helping-with-it-me-and-Chromedome-and-Hardhead-but-they-went-to-see-Thrust-and-Ramjet-and-Dirge-first-because-they-were-leaving-earlier-so-I-left-after-they-were-gone-and-I-don’t-have-a-map-and-even-if-I-did-I-don’t-actually-know-which-level-I’m-supposed-to-go-to-can-you-please-help-me-out?” He stopped, feeling hopeful because he’d managed to be more concise than before. Slightly.

Sixshot said, “You need to find your Autobot friends?” Blurr nodded, relieved. Sixshot activated his comm link. “Hey. Soundwave. Those Autobots that got here yesterday. Where are they?” A pause. “Well, no, one of them’s in my office.” Another pause. “Beats me! I’m not going to ask him. He just wants to find wherever they’re working.”

It was then that Blurr realized that he could have just called Hardhead and Chromedome. But then again, did they know how to get all around the base? Did they have a map? Maybe. But also, Blurr had been lost, so he wouldn’t have been able to tell them where he was. It was too late now, anyway.

“Cutthroat,” said Sixshot. “Take this Autobot down to level one, please. The hangar he’s looking for is actually the old weapons storage room and the lab that was next to it. They knocked the wall down and it’s going to be an engine room.”

“Okay,” said Cutthroat. He pointed at Sixshot’s desk. “Can I have an energon candy?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Sixshot rummaged around in a drawer, pulled out a lollipop, and handed it to the Terrorcon.

Cutthroat happily popped it into his mouth and said to Blurr, “Aight, les’go!”

Blurr trotted after him, and said, “Sixshot-doesn’t-seem-so-bad-I-heard-that-he’s-kind-of-a-jerk-but-he-seems-pretty-nice-to-me-does-he-just-get-grumpy-sometimes-because-I guess-everyone-gets-grumpy-sometimes-except-some-more-than-others-you-know-I…” Blurr trailed off when Cutthroat gave him a blank look, remembering that the Terrorcon couldn’t understand a word he said.

They went back to the elevator and took it down to the first floor. Blurr was getting antsy now, wishing he could have just run down the stairs because that would have been faster than the elevator, but he still didn’t know where he was going.

The first level was even messier than the second, and Blurr and Cutthroat wove around piles of construction materials in the hall until they arrived at a doorway that wasn’t really a doorway but a doorway-shaped hole cut in a plastic sheet.

The room beyond was filled with a giant, half-assembled machine that was probably going to end up as the ship’s engine. The floor surrounding it was littered with parts and pieces of electronics, and Mixmaster and Long Haul were sitting in the middle of it, messing around with three different datapads and passing them back and forth with mumbles and shakes of their heads.

On one side of the room, Hardhead was standing by the wall, looking up at Chromedome, who was all the way up near the ceiling on a not-very-sturdy-looking catwalk. Blurr immediately ran to Hardhead, words anxiously spilling out of his mouth before he even reached the other Autobot. “Hardhead-Hardhead-I’m-sorry-I’m-late-I-got-lost-I-didn’t-even-know-what-level-we-were-on-well-I-know-now-because-when-I-took-the-elevator-it-said-three-so-we-must-have-been-staying-on-the-third-floor-but-I-didn’t-know-where-this-hangar-was-and-I-didn’t-have-a-map-and-I-guess-I-was-so-confused-I-forgot-I-could-call-you-on-the-comm-link-but-then-again-maybe-you-don’t-have-a-map-either-anyway-I’m-here-now-what-is-Chromedome-doing-all-the-way-up-there?”

Hardhead did what he usually did when Blurr rambled at him right off the bat, which was simply give him one of those small, affectionate smiles, and say, “Hi, Blurr.”

And just like that, Blurr could feel some of his tension evaporating. Because that was the thing about his rambling—the other Autobots understood that he had issues. He knew that. They listened, and most of them could, by now, pick up most everything in his rapid-fire word dumps. They were polite. They didn’t dislike him, he knew that too, but he could tell that sometimes, they were just waiting for him to stop talking. Sometimes, some of them would answer in quick, short tones that let him know to keep his mouth shut.

But Hardhead didn’t. Hardhead just listened. He listened, and answered, and listened some more. He wasn’t the only one who did that, of course—Hot Rod, Arcee, Springer, and Chromedome were happy to spend time with Blurr, but it wasn’t the same, because they had plenty to say too. Hardhead didn’t waste words like Blurr did. Everything that came out of his mouth was short and to the point. So when they were together, it was usually Blurr dominating the conversation, and he could talk and talk and talk to his spark’s content, barely leaving room for Hardhead to speak, but Hardhead genuinely seemed to enjoy spending time with him. Which Blurr shouldn’t have found odd, because they were dating after all.

In response to Blurr’s question, Hardhead said, “Chromedome wanted to see how high up he could climb.”

“Hey, Blurr!” Chromedome called down. “Check this out! I’m gonna get on this pipe here and I’ll be able to touch the ceiling.”

The pipe didn’t look big enough for Chromedome to be putting his entire weight on, so Blurr said, “Are-you-sure-that’s-a-good-idea-what-if-you-fall-you-might-get-hurt-if-you-fall-from-that-high-up-you-could-break-a-strut-and-that-really-hurts-I-would-know-I-broke-a-strut-in-my-leg-once-but-also-I-thought-we-were-supposed-to-be-helping-the-Decepticons-with-this-engine-and-it-doesn’t-look-like-they’re-even-working-on-it-it-looks-kind-of-like-a-mess-all-over-the-floor-eeeeeeep!” Blurr squealed in alarm as the pipe broke and Chromedome came careening down through the air with a shout of his own.

With a resounding _CRASH!_ he hit the floor and yelled, “Eeeyow!”

Mixmaster and Long Haul whipped around. “What in the _world_ are you doing over there?” Long Haul demanded.

“Primus—fucking—owwww!” Chromedome shouted.

“He fell from up there,” Hardhead told the Constructicons helpfully, pointing. “Are you okay, Chromedome?”

“No!” Chromedome wailed. “It hurrrrts!”

Mixmaster and Long Haul had gotten up and hurried over. “What were you doing up there?” Mixmaster asked.

“He was seeing how high he could go,” Hardhead said, looking back up. “Too bad the pipe broke, I wanted to go next.”

“What—no!” said Mixmaster. “No more climbing! Get—you two, take him to Hook to see what he broke.” He pointed at Hardhead and Blurr, who immediately helped up Chromedome.

Chromedome was able to stand, which was good, but he said loudly, “My arm hurts! OW!”

“Go up to the second floor,” Long Haul said. “Take the third hallway on your left, then the first right, then go to the fifth door on your left. That’s the infirmary. I’ll tell Hook to meet you there.”

“Okay,” said Hardhead. He guided Chromedome out the plastic sheeting doorway and towards the stairwell.

“We can’t go down the stairs, I’m hurt!” Chromedome protested.

“Your legs are fine,” said Hardhead, but he turned towards the elevators anyway. Blurr followed, zigzagging as he walked so he kept going back and forth from walking beside Chromedome to walking beside Hardhead.

Chromedome whined, “Stop it, Blurr.”

Blurr stopped zigzagging, opting to walk next to Hardhead. Chromedome must have been a little snappy because of his injury. Blurr didn’t think that would normally annoy him.

Now he was anxious again. When he got anxious, he knew he was making everyone around him anxious too, and if there was something to be anxious about he shouldn’t be making people spend their energy trying to calm him down, but it was so hard to control it. Blurr walked as close to Hardhead as he could without bumping into him, and Hardhead glanced at him briefly before reaching over and taking Blurr’s hand.

That calmed him down, and he felt dumb for being so erratic with his moods. Hardhead didn’t seem to ever get anxious. He was always calm, and never in a hurry, and in that way he somehow anchored Blurr. Blurr could run around and chatter non-stop and it wouldn’t bother Hardhead and it wouldn’t make him anxious and he’d still be there when Blurr slowed back down. Sometimes, if Blurr really needed to slow down, he found that being with Hardhead made it a lot easier because he didn’t have to worry about _not_ slowing down. He wasn’t even sure if that made sense.

“You’re being very quiet,” Hardhead said as they stepped into the elevator.

“Oh!” said Blurr, startled out of his thoughts. “I-was-just-thinking-about-stuff-it’s-not-anything-important-I-was-just-feeling-a-little-anxious-but-you-usually-you-usually-help-me-with-that-I’m-okay-though-there’s-nothing-to-be-anxious-about-right-now-right-we-just-need-to-find-Hook-and-I’m sure-he’ll-get-Chromedome-all-fixed-up-I-doubt-anything-serious-is-broken-I-mean-it-could-be-but—”

“Blurr, cut it out!” Chromedome interrupted, and Blurr snapped his mouth shut. “It already hurts enough without speculating about what’s broken!”

“I’m sorry,” Blurr said, and bit his lip so he wouldn’t keep going. Chromedome didn’t generally interrupt him, but Blurr was being inconsiderate. He tried not to worry about talking too much. When he worried about talking too much it made him talk more, and then others had no choice but to cut him off.

Even Hardhead had had to cut Blurr off. But only a few times, and every single time he’d done it in the very intimate fashion of covering Blurr’s mouth with his own.

The first time was before they’d even gotten together—Blurr thought they were going to die and was on his way to having a full-blown panic attack, and Hardhead had thought that would be a good way to calm him down. Who knew where he’d gotten that idea, but it _had_ worked.

The second time had been shortly after that, when Blurr was going on about how he wouldn’t expect anything from it and he understood that it was done in the heat of the moment and even if he had strong feelings for Hardhead it was fine, and Hardhead tried to reassure him that yes, the kiss was meant, but Blurr hadn’t stopped blabbering. So Hardhead had just said, “I promise it was, here, I’ll show you,” and done it again.

The last time it had happened was just the day before, on the shuttle to Chaar, and it was for the terribly selfish reason that Hardhead had dragged Blurr into something troublesome again and didn’t want to answer all of his questions. That was the first time Hardhead had done it because _he_ was getting overwhelmed.

Blurr felt Hardhead squeeze his hand and he gave Hardhead a reassuring smile, hoping it conveyed _I’m fine_ and possibly some of the myriad of other things that were running through his head. Hardhead smiled back. Blurr liked Hardhead’s smiles. They were never very big, and to others it probably seemed like Hardhead was very unexpressive or reserved—and compared to most Autobots, he was. But to Blurr, Hardhead’s small smiles and tiny changes of facial expression spoke volumes. Blurr could usually read Hardhead’s mood pretty easily, even if everyone else (save for Chromedome and a few others) insisted he was nothing but nonchalant 24/7. Just because Hardhead was calm didn’t mean he didn’t care.

The elevator doors opened, and Chromedome said, “I don’t remember which way he said to go…”

“I do!” said Blurr, and blurted out the directions word-for-word.

“Thanks,” said Chromedome. He glanced at Hardhead, then said, “Sorry for yelling at you, Blurr.”

Blurr shook his head. “It’s-okay-I-was-being-inconsiderate-I-wasn’t-thinking-and-it-was-pretty-rude-because-you’re-in-pain-and-we-don’t-know-what’s-broken-if-anything-so-I-shouldn’t-have-brought-it-up-but-I-just-did-I-just-did-again-I’m-sorry-I-just-go-on-and-on-sometimes-you-know-and-it’s-hard-for-me-to-stop.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Chromedome. “It’s not your fault.” They trooped down the hallway, following Long Haul’s directions, and arrived at the infirmary shortly.

Hook was fixing up one of the Predacons inside, and he glanced up when they came in and said, “I’ll look at your arm in a minute.”

The Predacon squinted at Hardhead. “Brawl? Why are you holding hands with an Autobot?”

“That’s not Brawl, Headstrong,” Hook said, sounding slightly amused. “That’s Hardhead. He’s an Autobot too.”

“Uh—I knew that!” Headstrong said quickly. “You don’t look anything like Brawl! Just because you’re a green tank too doesn’t mean you can pass for him, dumbass! Stupid Autobot.”

“Okay?” Hardhead said.

Headstrong continued loudly, apparently trying to cover up his own embarrassment. “That’s right! Nice try! You’re not too bright, are you? I bet that’s why you’re called Hardhead.” Headstrong seemed to see no irony in this statement.

“Um-excuse-me,” Blurr piped up, “That’s-very-rude-Hardhead-is-NOT-stupid-he-can-be-kind-of-impulsive-and-maybe-a-little-reckless-sometimes-but-he’s-very-smart-and-he’s-very-kind-and-he’s-considerate-and-patient-and-and-you-can’t-just-go-around-saying-those-things-about-him-because-you-don’t-even-know-him.”

“What?” Headstrong yelled. Hook, apparently done with him, shooed him off the table he was sitting on and waved Chromedome over. Headstrong marched over to Hardhead and scowled at him. Hardhead didn’t say anything, but Blurr noticed that his face was slightly red.

“Oh,” exclaimed Blurr, “Hardhead-I’m-sorry-I-wasn’t-trying-to-embarrass-you-but-he-was-saying-things-that-just-aren’t-true-at-all-and-it-was-very-rude-and-I-really-couldn’t-just-stand-there-and-not-correct-that.”

“S’fine,” Hardhead said, turning a little redder.

“Well-Headstrong-your-name-is-Headstrong-right?” Blurr went on, “I-think-you-ought-to-apologize-to-Hardhead-because-that-was-uncalled-for-just-because-you-mistook-him-for-somebody-else-is-no-reason-to-attack-him-like—”

“Oh my god!” Headstrong yelled. “Somebody shut that glitch up!”

All of Blurr’s remaining words died in his mouth but he barely had time to react to being called _that_ word (even if it was true) because Hardhead activated his shoulder turret and shot Headstrong.

“Hey!” Hook cried when Headstrong collapsed in a heap on the floor, smoking. “I just fixed him!”

Hardhead shrugged.

“Eh, he deserved it,” said Chromedome.

“Hardhead!” cried Blurr. “Hardhead-you-just-shot-him-oh-my-god-you-just-shot-him-point-blank-you-can’t- _do_ -that-we’re-supposed-to-have-a-truce-and-we-weren’t-even-supposed-to-be-here-in-the-first-place-oh-no-oh-no-we’re-going-to-be-in-so-much-trouble-we’re-going-to-get-Optimus-in-trouble-because-we’re-here-shooting-Decepticons-why-why-why-did-you-do-that?”

Hardhead turned and cupped Blurr’s face in his hands. “He called you—he was calling you names,” he said. “Don’t worry, Blurr. We’re not all in trouble. It’s just me that shot him. I’m not sorry, but if they have to make an example of me I guess that’s okay.”

Blurr didn’t think that was okay, and he didn’t know how the Decepticons might “make an example” of Hardhead but he was starting to calm down again a little bit (there he went again, up and down, up and down) because they _did_ have a truce on, and the Decepticons didn’t want to mess that up either, right? Starscream was the one who’d initiated it, but then again Starscream had a history of being treacherous, oh but he was seeing Skyfire now, that meant he definitely wanted long-term peace, probably—

“Blurr,” said Hardhead, because he could always tell when Blurr’s brain module was running like a centrifuge. “It’ll be fine. I’ll go tell Starscream what I did.”

“Oh, wait for me,” Chromedome said. “I want to see what he says.”

Hook patched up Chromedome’s arm and told him he was lucky nothing was broken, then dragged Headstrong across the floor and attempted to get him back on the table. Blurr hurried over to help, and Hardhead followed suit.

“Thanks,” said Hook once they’d gotten Headstrong up in an unceremonious pile. “You’re probably not going to be in any trouble, honestly. The Predacons get into fights all the time.”

“I was also completely justified,” Hardhead said with a nod. “Can you call Starscream and ask where he is?”

“Yeah, sure.” Hook commed Starscream and informed the Autobots that the Decepticon leader was currently outside the base with Omega Supreme.

Arguing with Omega Supreme, apparently. “You just _said_ you didn’t need it,” Starscream was saying to the huge guardian when the three Autobots found him.

“Omega Supreme does not need it, but the Constructicons insisted and it will make them feel better,” Omega Supreme rumbled. He was sitting on the ground, and Starscream was perched on a high rock in front of him.

“It’s going to delay the base construction even more!” Starscream argued.

“Hi, Starscream!” Chromedome called, waving up to Starscream.

Starscream glanced down, sighed, and said, “ _Now_ what?” He turned to Omega Supreme. “Hang on a moment.” Starscream transformed to jet mode and swooped down to the ground, gracefully changing back as he landed. “You’re supposed to be assisting Mixmaster and Long Haul, you bratty little stowaways. What do you want?”

“Hey, we were helping them,” Chromedome protested. “But they ran into a problem with something and they were trying to figure it out so we had to wait.”

“Then Chromedome fell off the ceiling,” Hardhead added. “So we went to the infirmary and I shot Headstrong.”

“I—you—what?” Starscream shook his head. “Say again?”

“Chromedome-was-climbing-up-the-walls-in-the-engine-room-well-not-the-engine-room-yet-but-the-room-they-were-working-in,” Blurr rattled off. “And-a-pipe-broke-and-he-fell-and-hurt-his-arm-and-we-took-him-to-the-infirmary-and-Headstrong-was-in-there-and-he-mistook-Hardhead-for-Brawl-which-is-silly-because-they-really-don’t-look-alike-at-all-Hardhead-is-much-more-handsome-but-Headstrong-got-mad-because-of-it-and-he-was-saying-nasty-things-about-Hardhead-so-I-told-him-to-stop-but-he-called-me-a-a-a-glitch-and-Hardhead-shot-him.”

“Hmm,” said Starscream after a moment. “He’s not dead, is he?”

“No,” said Hardhead. “Hook’s probably fixing him.”

“I suppose he deserved it. But still, you can’t go around shooting Decepticons when we’ve got a truce going. Is that why you’re here? Turning yourself in?” Hardhead nodded, and Starscream looked thoughtful. “See, we could lock you up, but that just means less help. And it’s not going to make a difference to the Autobots anyway, since Ultra Magnus said we could keep you.”

“What?” Chromedome exclaimed. “How could he? I’m calling Optimus!”

“I expect Ultra Magnus wasn’t being _entirely_ serious,” Starscream said. “But you’re staying here until the construction’s complete. You can go back when Omega Supreme and the Constructicons do.”

“Aw, man!” Chromedome groaned. “We gotta finish this as fast as possible, then. What’s Omega Supreme want? You said that was gonna slow it down?”

Starscream was about to answer when Skyfire flew up and landed next to him, transforming. “Starscream, Optimus is calling for you,” he said.

Starscream stared at him for a little too long before asking, “Why didn’t you just comm me?”

Skyfire smiled warmly. “Anything’s a good reason to come see you.”

“You’re not wrong,” Starscream said, but his face was obviously heating up. He called up to Omega Supreme, “Omega Supreme, I’ll get back to you about your, ah, room. I have to go talk to Optimus.” Omega Supreme nodded, and Starscream and Skyfire headed back inside the base. Hardhead, Chromedome, and Blurr followed right behind.

“A room?” Skyfire repeated curiously.

“Yes,” Starscream said. “The Constructicons don’t like that he has to sit outside all the time. They want to build him a room. Omega Supreme says he doesn’t need it, but they’re insistent so he wants me to let them make it. It would set back our schedule something awful.”

“Oh, but Starscream,” gushed Skyfire. “I think that’s a _wonderful_ idea! You should definitely let them build it!”

“Skyfire, I know you’re far more sentimental than I am, but this is completely unnecessary,” Starscream argued.

“Starscream,” Skyfire said, “I have plenty of trouble getting in and out and through places because of _my_ frame size. I can’t imagine what that must be like for Omega Supreme. Surely he deserves a little accommodation.”

Starscream stopped short and Chromedome ran into him. Starscream shoved him away and said, “Okay. Fine. They can build it.” Skyfire beamed at him.

Optimus and Ultra Magnus were on the screen when they reached the communications room, speaking with Soundwave.

“Starscream, hello!” Optimus said when they all came in. “Soundwave was just giving us an update on your construction schedule.”

Starscream made a face. “Well, it’s outdated already.”

Optimus nodded knowingly. “I suppose that’s how it goes. The best laid plans of mice and men, eh?”

“Er, yes,” said Starscream. “Soundwave, let Scrapper know they can proceed with their little project for Omega Supreme, but we need a new estimated completion date for the ship.”

Soundwave nodded and stepped off to the side of the room to comm Scrapper.

“Optimus!” Chromedome spoke up. “Starscream said Ultra Magnus told him he could keep us!”

“Did he?” Optimus looked at Ultra Magnus.

“Yes,” said Ultra Magnus.

“Oh, well, I’m sure he was just joking around,” Optimus said brightly. “But until further notice, all three of you are assigned to assist the Decepticons on Chaar.”

“What?” Chromedome cried. “That’s not fair!”

“It kind of is fair,” Hardhead said.

“No, it’s not!” Chromedome whined. “All we did was hitch a little ride.”

“Without permission,” said Ultra Magnus. “While you were already confined to quarters for your _last_ excursion. Perhaps you should have thought about that before taking off.”

Chromedome managed to pout, despite not having a mouth. “Well—well, what does Hot Rod have to say about this?”

“It doesn’t matter, he’s not in charge anymore.”

“Then what did Fortress say?” Chromedome tried.

“Nothing,” Ultra Magnus replied. “He’s off-planet doing relief efforts with the Trainbots.”

“Well, what’s he going to say when he gets back?” Chromedome demanded.

“Chromedome,” Ultra Magnus said. “Please stop and think about what you just asked me. And you’re probably going to get back before he does anyway.”

“Hmph,” said Chromedome. “I bet he took Daniel and Wheelie with him too.”

Ultra Magnus didn’t say anything.

“All right, that’s enough!” Starscream said. “I clearly heard Optimus Prime say you’re ours until further notice, so quit arguing. Now, Optimus,” Starscream smirked at the screen. “We _do_ appreciate the help, but it isn’t quite right to use us as punishment for your little ruffians’ misbehavior. It leaves us having to deal with them, and I’m sorry to say, one of them shot a Decepticon earlier.”

“Chromedome!” Optimus scolded.

“It wasn’t me!” Chromedome exclaimed. “It was Hardhead! Don’t automatically assume it was me!”

“I apologize,” Optimus said. “Hardhead, really? Why would you do that?”

“He was being a fuckface piece of shit,” Hardhead responded, and Blurr kind of loved him for it.

Optimus and Ultra Magnus fell silent, probably trying to remember if they’d heard Hardhead swear like that before.

Starscream waved his hand dismissively. “We’ve got it handled, but I think you owe us. You’re doing us a favor by letting them help, but we’re doing you two favors by being responsible for their discipline _and_ looking after them.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Optimus agreed. “Are you requesting anything in particular?”

“No,” said Starscream. “Just keep it in mind.”

“Let us know if you need help dealing with them,” Ultra Magnus said reluctantly. “If you want to give them back early, we understand.”

“We’re not _that_ bad,” Hardhead said.

“Mm,” said Ultra Magnus noncommittally.

“I’ve dealt with Decepticons who are worse,” Starscream said. “If we have to toss them in a cell we’ll be sure to inform you.”

“Well, thanks,” said Optimus. “We’ll be in touch, then.” He paused, not ending the transmission. “Are you all right, Blurr?”

Blurr startled, not expecting the question but fully aware that he hadn’t contributed to the conversation. He heard Starscream sigh, no doubt bracing for his mile-a-minute chatter, so Blurr tried to keep it short. “Yes-I’m-all-right-just-getting-used-to-this-place-it’s-very-large-and-I don’t-know-where-everything-is-but-so-far-everyone-has-been-pretty-nice-thank-you-Optimus.”

“Everyone except Headstrong,” Hardhead said.

“That’s who Hardhead shot,” Chromedome supplied helpfully.

“Er, okay,” said Optimus. “I do need you three to behave yourselves, please.”

“Yes, sir,” they chorused, and Ultra Magnus’s expression said he wasn’t buying it, but he ended the call anyway.

Starscream turned to Chromedome. “Did Hook fix you up from, what did you say you did? Fell off the ceiling?”

“Yeah,” said Chromedome. “I’m good.”

“Then get back to the engine room and get back to work,” Starscream said, pointing to the exit. “Go on, scram,” he added when they didn’t move.

“Can we have a datapad?” Chromedome asked. “So we’ll have a map?”

“You can borrow mine,” Skyfire said, handing it to him. “We’ll get you one later, okay?”

“Thanks, Skyfire,” said Chromedome. “You’re the best.” He tapped on the datapad, pulled up a map, and left unhurriedly. Hardhead and Blurr trailed after him.

“What are you doing?” Hardhead asked Blurr as they walked through the base, weaving around construction materials. Blurr gave him a questioning look, and Hardhead pointed to where Blurr was holding his hand.

Oh. Blurr realized he’d been absently playing with Hardhead’s fingers, curling and uncurling them, and he’d probably been doing that the whole time they were in the communications room. Maybe that was why Optimus had asked if he was all right. Blurr immediately dropped Hardhead’s hand. “Sorry!” he said. “I-was-fidgeting-just-fidgeting-I’m-a-little-antsy-because-I-haven’t-been-able-to-run-because-I-don’t-know-where-anything-is-in-this-base-and-we-didn’t-have-a-map-before-I-had-tried-to-run-earlier-but-I-just-got-lost-so-I’m-just-needing-needing-to-move-see.”

“It’s fine,” Hardhead said, and he offered Blurr his hand back. “I was just curious.”

Blurr hesitantly took Hardhead’s hand again, and slowly resumed his fidgeting. Hardhead smiled at him, and Blurr felt a wave of affection fill his spark. He wanted to tell Hardhead that he loved him, because that was something they hadn’t actually said to each other yet, but he didn’t want to go too fast because he did _everything_ too fast, so he was waiting and hoping that Hardhead would say it first.

When they reached the engine room, Thrust, Dirge, and Ramjet had joined Long Haul and Mixmaster, but the latter two were still mulling over their datapads.

“Hi, guys!” Thrust said. “We were gonna help out so you could finish sooner, but Long Haul and Mixmaster said they can’t find some problem.”

“We have to fix this before doing anything else,” Long Haul said with a frown. “I just can’t figure out what’s causing it…”

“Can they come play with us while you figure it out?” Ramjet asked. The coneheads were working on a ridiculously convoluted game they’d come up with, and Hardhead and Chromedome were helping them make it even more tedious. Blurr hadn’t really been able to get into it because the whole purpose of the game seemed to be for it to take as long as possible. They’d spent hours on it the previous night and it’d just made him twitchy.

“Better not,” said Hardhead. “Starscream just sent us here and I’m already sort of in trouble.”

“What for?” Dirge asked.

“I might have shot Headstrong.”

“Well, you can’t be in too much trouble,” Dirge said. “Blot shot him this morning.”

“Huh,” said Hardhead.

“Well, what can we work on?” Chromedome peered over Mixmaster’s shoulder at one of the datapads.

Mixmaster swatted him away. “It’s just taking us awhile to go over all the data. I don’t think you all can help with that.”

“I can!” Blurr said excitedly. “I-can-read-really-really-fast!”

Mixmaster and Long Haul exchanged a look, shrugged, and handed all three of their datapads to Blurr. Happy that there was finally something he could assist with, Blurr immediately read through them and finished in about five minutes.

“You’re done already?” Long Haul said when Blurr handed them back. Blurr nodded.

“You read _all_ of it?” Mixmaster asked.

“Yup-yup-yes-uh-huh.”

Long Haul looked down at the datapads, then back up at Blurr. “Did you… understand all of it?”

“Nope!” Blurr said. “Nope-I-sure-didn’t!”

“Ah,” said Long Haul. “Thanks anyway.”

Blurr’s mood deflated, but before he could start feeling too anxious again, Hardhead spoke up. “How about we take some time to familiarize ourselves with the layout of the base?”

“Yeah, sure,” said Mixmaster with a sigh. “We’ll call you when we have something for you to do, I guess. Do you have a map?”

“Just one.” Hardhead handed Skyfire’s datapad to Blurr.

“You’re-giving-me-the-map?” Blurr said. “Should-I-lead-the-way-are-we-going-anywhere-in-particular?”

“Thrust, Dirge, and Ramjet can show us around,” Hardhead said. “You can just study the map and then run. I don’t think we’ll be able to keep up.”

Blurr’s optics widened. That was right! If he knew where he was going, he could _run._ He quickly pulled up the map on the datapad and studied it for a couple of minutes. Then he looked at it a little more for good measure, until he thought he had a pretty solid idea of the base’s layout. He gave Hardhead a huge grin and said, “I’m-going-to-go-explore-thank-you-Hardhead-thank-you-thank-you!”

Hardhead gave him one of those spark-meltingly fond smiles, and Blurr zipped up to give him a kiss on the cheek before turning and racing out of the room.

It felt _so good_ to run, and Blurr tore through the base, dodging several startled Decepticons along the way. He ran up and down every single hall and each and every stairwell and made a complete circuit of all the rooms that weren’t private, and he felt the calmest he’d been since they’d arrived.

Because when he was running, zooming past everything and everyone so fast that they looked like his namesake—that was when his systems finally felt in sync. His thoughts, his words, and his body all going at the same speed, and it was invigorating and soothing at the same time.

He passed Hardhead, Chromedome, and the coneheads twice, and they were going so slow he barely saw them wave at him. But he remembered which way they were headed, and it wasn’t hard to find them when he’d finished racing around the Decepticon base.

He spotted them near the mess hall, and slowed his speed as he approached. They definitely saw him coming, because he was intending to come to a complete stop before reaching them but Hardhead opened his arms and waited so Blurr ran right into his embrace.

Hardhead wrapped his arms around Blurr and squeezed tightly. “Did you see the whole base?” he asked.

Blurr squeezed back. “I did!” he said. “It’s-really-a-very-nice-base-and-the-accommodations-are-better-than-what-I’d-been-expecting-since-it-was-originally-built-by-Galvatron-did-you-know-there’s-an-observation-deck-on-the-top-floor-it-has-a-beautiful-view-of-the-stars-and-the-planet-I-guess-if-you-like-looking-at-the-planet-but-Chaar’s-not-much-of-a-planet-I-can-see-why-everyone’s-eager-to-get-a-move-on.”

Hardhead let out a quiet chuckle, and dropped his forehead onto Blurr’s shoulder. He hugged Blurr again, gently, and said, “Love you, Blurr.”

“ _Oh,_ ” gasped Blurr. “I-I-I-love-you-too-Hardhead-I-really-wanted-to-say-it-sooner-but-I-was-afraid-of-going-too-fast-for-you-and-maybe-I-shouldn’t-say-that-that-I-wanted-to-say-it-sooner-because-maybe-you-didn’t-and-that’s-what-I-was-scared-of-but-I-do-I-love-you-a-lot.” Their chests were pressed closely together so Hardhead could probably feel how fast Blurr’s spark was pulsing but he thought maybe he could feel that Hardhead’s was also going a little too fast.

Hardhead lifted his head up and looked right at Blurr and said, “It’s okay. I was scared too.”

Blurr felt relieved, and happy, and so in love that he wanted to say it again, so he did. He said, “I-love-you-Hardhead,” and although it was short it was still just as fast and he’d run all his words together, he wasn’t worrying about it because Hardhead’s face just lit up more than it already was. Blurr slid one hand up behind Hardhead’s neck, and pulled him forward so their lips met.

And that was the strange thing right there—because as many things as Blurr struggled with, as many things as he _tried_ to do slowly and he just couldn’t manage it—taking his time kissing Hardhead wasn’t difficult at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Dirge is embarrassed that Blurr and Hardhead are making out in the middle of the hall. At least Starscream and Skyfire had the decency to do it in Starscream’s office


End file.
